Thursday, March 10, 2011

Eat Mor Chikin.

So, I got a job at Chick-fil-A. Hooray for employment! I think...

It's actually pretty hard work, definitely not for the faint of heart. I never imagined how much work could go into making chicken, but takes a great deal of manpower. Don't get me wrong, I love my job. It's, as my dad calls it, controlled chaos, which is awesome for a guy like me who's so OCD he wants to alphabetize the letters in OCD to read CDO. It keeps me on edge, but focused.

Not to mention, I have an amazing support system working with me every step of the way. I've made friends with almost all of the guys back in the kitchen with me. I've heard each of their stories, learned about their strengths and weaknesses, and even hung out with a couple of them. They're great guys, great people.

It's amazing how working with someone teaches you so much about who they are.

Granted, there's a couple people that I've run into that slowly detract from that brotherly, family-friendly image we're taught to uphold at Chick-fil-A. I'm sure I'd probably get fired for complaining about a coworker normally, but since no one I work with is very tech-savvy and since I don't get paid to care, I'm going to anyway.

For these first couple weeks, we've had trainers vicariously running the restaurant through us and take over when things got too rough. Every one of us "noobs" has shared a heated exchange with at least one of the trainers. Because, occasionally, one or two of their egos would swell to the size of a Goodyear blimp. But overall, we grew to appreciate their tough love. Of course, showing them up and pointing out whenever they screwed something up was just icing on the cake.

However, a few of my coworkers and I noticed a particular team member of ours was adapting all to well and even copying the trainers' style. Not the being amazing at everything part, just the pompous, profanity-inducing, order-barking part. Regardless of how long he'd been working at a station or whether he genuinely even had a clue as to what was going on, he felt it was necessary to give us his opinion of our work. Despite the fact that I assured him we were very, very disinterested in what he had to say, he has yet to accept the fact that he's no more skilled than the rest of us.

We tried tuning him out, but you see, the problem is that this particular coworker's mouth has the ability to project sounds at the decibel level of a bullhorn. Not only that, but when he gives an order, he insists it's completed immediately. If it's not, he repeats himself. Over and over and over again.

Several of my friends got a little hot under the collar and said a few things that would probably make Truett Cathy roll over in his grave. And I may have told him where I intended to shove the next fillet if he didn't shut his mouth...but nevertheless, we got through the day.

This, of course, shouldn't discourage you from coming to Chick-fil-A. The smackdown going on in the kitchen will not interrupt your wait times at all. Think of it as getting dinner AND a free show!